


How We Will End

by zerostumbleine33



Series: Bent [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canonical Character Death, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Sexual Content, Substance Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:29:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerostumbleine33/pseuds/zerostumbleine33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been at the new camp for a month now, having found it leaderless and nearly desolate. Dean takes the reigns as the new leader and sets forth on a plan to the kill the Devil, but Cas has reservations about the plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Granite

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Sarah (ssjdebusk) and Lily (lilykep) for beta-ing the second half of my story!

_“So we reach into the raging chaos, and we pluck some small glittering thing, and we cling to it, and tell ourselves it has meaning, and that the world is good, and we are not evil and we will all go home in the end.”_

_-Anne Rice_

 

March 2013

**Chapter 1: Granite**

Dean sprints as fast as he can around the corner of the building, pulling the grenade pin with his teeth and throwing the body of it over his shoulder. He propels himself forward, every muscle in his legs screams for respite but he presses forward with a wide smile. He waits a moment before covering his ears and ducking behind a nearby dumpster as the blast sounds through the air.

As the dust settles, Dean pulls his gun from his leg holster and sprints further down the small alley, laughing as he reaches the wide clearing at the end. He fires a single shot into the air, signaling his group to join him. Dust and debris has settled at the opposite end of the alley, and Dean doesn’t want to waste time.

Cas is the first to join him, his brows furrowed in a mixture of worry and annoyance. “That was reckless, Dean.”

Dean shrugs and hands him the leftover pin from the grenade. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Cas throws the pin on the ground and motions towards his group of supply scouts. They wait a moment, filing behind Dean’s group. Adrenaline courses through Dean’s veins and he can’t help the bit of elation he feels at a supply run going even better than planned. They had found an old military camp the week prior and while it had been difficult to clear out, they had done it.

Dean sticks his hand in his coat pocket again, reassuring himself of the second grenade safely tucked away for an emergency. He leads the two groups down the alley he had come through, motioning towards the horde of bodies on the ground. He looks at Cas, and when their eyes meet, he gives him a cocky grin.

They move quietly, hoping not to disturb any more Croats than necessary. Dean had taken down a large portion of them, using himself as bait. They aren’t in the clear though. The shopping district of Overland Park, Missouri is dangerous; full of wide alleys and large street intersections. The mix of suburb and city is a goldmine for supplies though, and most of the smaller towns have been picked through by now. Dean looks back and forth as they walk down the street, stopping only to point out spots for members to take guard at. Castiel nods his approval each time, working in tandem.

They set up the perimeter around a strip of stores, Cas’ group running in first. They break into each store, take what they need, and seal it up as they go. The food mart is first and most important, as the camp’s supplies took a heavy hit during the winter months. The chill air still whips around them but the pressing bitterness is gone and the snow has ceased to fall.

Dean checks his watch, tapping his foot anxiously as the two groups work. He doesn’t remove the safety from his gun as he keeps his eyes straight-forward on the main road. A tap on his shoulder makes him jump and he narrows his eyes as he turns his head.

“What?” he hisses at Risa, who should be watching the other side of the building.

“We’ve got four Croats coming down the left side of the building. Janet will cover the front if you help take care of the ones around the side.”

“Why isn’t Janet helping you?” he asks, annoyed.

Risa fixes him with an angry glare before responding. “You know why. She’s great with a gun but useless in hand to hand. Unless you want t-“

“Yeah, ok, I know. We’ll take care of this quickly and quietly.” Dean responds, cutting her off.

He follows her, jogging behind her as she taps Janet on the shoulder and motions to her to take watch over the front of the building. Risa pulls Dean forward, crouching down below some shrubbery.

She points towards the advancing Croats, but Dean has already spotted them. The adrenaline from earlier is still present in his system and he rocks back and forth from the balls of his heels to the tips of his toes while his pulse begins to pound from his head to his fingertips.

Three of the Croats are women, small enough to be taken down if they got the jump on them. Dean narrows his eyes slightly at the one male Croat who is over six feet tall.

“Shit,” he mutters quietly. His eyes meet Risa’s and she nods slightly with a grim look. Now he understands why Janet would be useless. She has expert training in firearms and other weapons but her physical combat skills are still awful. In fact, Dean realizes that only himself, Risa, of course Cas, have any real experience in hand to hand combat.

“We need to take him out first,” Risa says, flipping her blade over in her hands anxiously.

“I will take him from the front, you get behind him and cut his throat. If it gets to be too much, you run and warn everyone else,” Dean says sternly.

“Sure thing, Rambo.”

They wait a few more minutes, looking for an opening. As the male Croat wanders closer to them, they see their opening. Dean holds up two fingers before tapping on his watch and pointing to the Croat. He waits long enough to catch a small nod from Risa before he leaps forward, drawing the attention of the larger Croat.

It immediately sprints towards him, and Dean twirls his knife with a cocky grin. Being bait _always_ works. He counts to two and right on time, Risa launches out from behind the bushes. The Croat manages to push Dean to the ground but it doesn’t get any further than that before its head falls to the ground, followed by the body.

Dean rolls to the side, springing to his feet as wipes the blood spatter from his hands onto his pants. Risa already has one of the female Croats down but the other two are advancing quickly. Risa kicks one of them, and pivots her body to slash her knife through the air with expertise. Dean follows up behind her and removes the head from the Croat that Risa had kicked away.

They both stop for a moment, their chests heaving from the exertion, wearing crooked smiles. “Are they getting slower or are we getting better?” Risa asks as she twirls her knife in her hands.

Dean shakes his hand and runs his hands through his hair. “What’s your deal anyway?” he asks, realizing that he has no idea about Risa’s life before all this mess. He pauses for a moment, wiping his blade on his jeans, “Wait, tell me about it over dinner or something, away from all of this.”

They check themselves quickly for any contamination before heading back to the group. Dean doesn’t waste time in rounding everyone up when they return to the front of the shopping complex. Dean finds a sedan that seems to be in good condition and hotwires it, settling in to finish this mission.

As the passenger door opens to his newly jacked sedan, Dean raises his eyes from his watch, which he had been obsessively checking for the past few minutes. “Jeez, Cas, could you take longer next time?” he says, but his voice gives away his concern.

Castiel rolls his eyes but gets in quickly, leaning his head against the headrest. “Let’s just get back to camp.”

Dean starts the car and brings up the rear on the caravan of cars ahead of him. The sun is setting and it’s later than he would have liked. He taps his foot anxiously on the gas watching as the light leaves the sky. They ride in silence until Dean can’t stand it anymore.

“Are you ok, Cas?”

“I should be asking that of _you_ , Dean,” Cas retorts, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

“Hey man, I’m doing everything I can to run this camp. I dunno what your deal is lately,” Dean says, his mouth settling into a thin line. He flicks on the car beams with more effort than is necessary and leans one elbow against the car window.

“Sure, Dean. If by everything, you mean trying to get yourself killed. Then yes, that is what you are doing.”

“Do you really want to do this right now?”

Dean turns his gaze sharply to Castiel, one hand gripping the steering wheel tightly. He stares at Castiel, taking in his stubble and the dark circles under his eyes. He longs to reach out and run his hand down Cas’ cheek and slot their hands together in the privacy of their car ride, but he can’t. He can’t deal with that now. Cas’ eyes are cold and clouded over with worry, which is something Dean can’t take away, so he just stares for a moment.

“Dean!” Castiel yells, grabbing the steering wheel quickly and pulling the car back towards the center of the road. “What the hell!”

“Fuck,” Dean says as he grips the steering wheel with both hands.

“How long?”

“How long, what?”

“Has it been since you’ve slept,” Castiel answers.

Dean’s fucked, since he can’t really lie to Cas, and either way Cas is just gonna be pissed. They haven’t even had sex in weeks, as if that doesn’t suck enough in itself. Dean blinks a few times as he notices just how weary and worn down he feels.

“A few days, ok?”

Castiel sighs, dropping his head down slightly. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bottle of pills. Dean pretends not to notice, keeping his eyes straightforward. He doesn’t want to ask, not really. He doesn’t want to know that Cas’ headaches are back as strong as ever, and he doesn’t want to dwell on how awful it feels that Cas hasn’t told him yet.

They get back to the camp with no other complications and Dean wants to feel as if the trip was a success because it was. He just can’t shake an uneasiness that has settled in his bones ever since they got to Camp Chitaqua. They’ve been here over a month now, and things are just now settling down.

The first few weeks had been awful. The camp had been almost overrun and most of the old leaders had died out on a mission. They had found mostly civilians left at the camp, surviving on the last of the supplies. The long winter hadn’t done humanity any favors.

So now Dean is leader, and he has the responsibility to keep everyone safe. He wanders towards his cabin in a slow daze, nearly collapsing along the way. He’s not sure when he started carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but it’s only seemed to get heavier in the last month. Dean wraps his hand around the doorknob to his cabin, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit him as he enters.


	2. How to Save a Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "As he goes left and you stay right  
> Between the lines of fear and blame  
> You begin to wonder why you came"

March 2013

**Chapter 2: How to Save a Life**

Dean blinks in the darkness, lighting the various oil canteens around the room as his eyes adjust to the low light. His heart clenches slightly as he realizes he has barely spent a night in this room since arriving. The dresser mantle holds various odds and ends that he has never seen; religious books and small pieces of art.

He spots a journal at the side of the bed and resists the urge to flip through it, to cheat and gain access to Castiel’s most inner thoughts. He sits on the edge of the bed, covering his eyes with his hands and breathes in slowly. The small creak of the door alerts him to Castiel’s presence, giving him away despite his soft steps. Dean doesn’t uncover his eyes, hiding in his own way.

The floor creaks again and he hears several distinct thumps; the sound of boots hitting the floor, followed by several articles of clothing. He can’t help but grin, the pervert that he knows he is.

Dean opens his eyes and moves his hands to rest on his head as he feels Cas removing the boots from his feet. Cas is slow and methodical with his movements. He drops Dean’s boots to the floor and moves his hands up Dean’s legs slowly, squeezing every so often.

As he pulls Dean’s jeans down, Dean can’t help the small moan that drops from his lips. He sits up slightly, pulling Cas forward onto the bed with him. He runs one hand through Cas’ hair, sighing as he notes the slight glassiness to his eyes.

“What’s up, man? I thought you were pissed at me?”

Cas cocks his head to the side slightly, and Dean can’t help but grin because that’s still possibly the most adorable thing he has seen anyone do.

“I am pissed. But I miss you more…so missing you wins out,” Castiel says before leaning forward and kissing Dean hard. Dean can’t help it as he instinctually arches his back upwards, pressing his body more firmly against Castiel who is only halfway kneeling on the bed, framing him.

“I’m ok with that,” Dean says as he pulls away from their kiss, his head reeling slightly. His breathe is slightly labored and man, it must really be too long since he had sex because he’s hard as a rock already.

Castiel climbs forward; draping his body above Dean’s before pressing down slowly, raking his hands up the sides of Dean’s shirt. Dean shivers slightly at the touch, small goosebumps tingling on every inch of skin that Cas touches. He lets Cas undress him slowly; agonizingly slowly. Every movement is punctuated with a deep kiss as Cas presses his mouth to Dean’s, drawing in his every breathe. He bites down gently on Dean’s bottom lip periodically, sucking hard for a few moments before traveling down Dean’s body.

He presses gentle kisses on Dean’s neck before biting and sucking into the skin on his chest. Dean bites down on his own bottom lip to keep from moaning loudly as Cas touches every inch of him. He keeps his eyes closed at first, trying to see how long he can hold out before giving in and watching Cas.

Embarrassingly, he doesn’t last long anyway. He opens his eyes and watches as Cas moves down his torso, his strong hands and delicate fingers gripping the sides of his hips in earnest. Cas bites down slightly on the soft area of skin above dean’s waist and Dean groans loudly, moving his hips upwards slightly.

The sight of Cas so close to his cock is almost too much for Dean. He swears under his breathe and grips the sheets in his hands, trying not to give in too easily to Cas’ game. Cas takes his time, licking slowly down from Dean’s bellybutton and stopping, then starting again.

“Fuck, Cas, come on,” he moans as his dick twitches in anticipation. He’s been achingly hard for 20 minutes now.

To his horror, Cas sits back and gives him a sly look. “I did still say I was pissed, didn’t I?”

“Oh fucking hell, Cas,” he says as he reaches up and pulls Cas back on top of him. He moans and shuts his eyes for a moment as he feels Castiel’s hard dick rub against his own. He’s not even sure when Cas took off his own clothing but he’s grateful for it. He wraps his arms around Cas, holding him tightly against his chest for a moment.

“So what’s my punishment?” he asks as he nibbles on Cas’ ear.

Cas laughs, and Dean grins because he lives for hearing that laugh. The throaty laugh that seems to make Cas’ whole body shake slightly but it’s quiet and you probably wouldn’t hear it if you weren’t pressed against one another like Eskimos in an ice storm.

Cas pulls back, rolling over to the side slightly, a teasing grin on his face. “You’re not gonna come until I let you,” he says, his voice low.

He moves behind Dean, settling his legs around Dean and brushes his lips over the edge of Dean’s shoulder. Dean moans and tilts his head back slightly as Cas traces his hand slowly around Dean’s torso, his fingertips ghosting along his skin.

Every touch is deliberate, slow, and explorative. Cas kisses along Dean’s shoulders and up the back of his neck before burying his head in Dean’s hair and nuzzling gently. His hands graze gently over the tip of Dean’s cock, which has been flying at full mast for a while now. Dean longs to touch himself but instead he reaches his arms back and tangles them in Cas’ hair, making it messier than it already is.

He pulls harder as Cas wraps one hand finally around his penis, his finger grazing over the tip that is leaking pre-come. Dean moans and closes his eyes, leaning back against Cas. It doesn’t take much to get him close to the edge, he’s not sure he’d last if Cas wanted to do anything more than drawn out hand jobs.

“Fuck,” he mutters as Cas moves his hand slowly up and down Dean’s shaft, gripping the tip tightly every so often with a tiny twist. Dean’s eyes flutter and he can feel his own heartbeat pounding in his chest. He drops his hands from Cas’ hair and runs his hands up the side of Cas’ legs instead, gripping tightly each time Cas touches the tip of his penis.

“Are you close?” Cas asks, his voice husky and low beside Dean’s air.

“God, yes, Cas,” Dean replies, his voice shaky as he holds on to the pleasurable feeling threatening to overtake him.

Cas grips Dean’s cock at the base tightly and Dean makes a sound he’s too embarrassed to ever admit to. “Not until I say you can,” Cas growls and Dean groans because if anything, Cas being all growly and demanding is even _more_ of a turn-on which also isn’t fair.

Thankfully, Dean notices that Cas’ own erection is flush against his back and if the awkward stickiness is any indication, Cas is having too much fun with his own game right now. Cas repositions Dean to the side of him, pushing him down against the pillows, pinning Dean down with his body.

They both moan loudly as their cocks rub together and Dean opens his eyes long enough to see the slightly furrowing of Cas’ eyebrow as he mouth hangs open in pleasure. Cas doesn’t waste time, grabbing Dean’s cock in his hand and motioning for Dean to grab his.

It doesn’t take long for both of them to reach the edge again, their bodies pressed tightly together as their elbows knock each other. Dean’s been achingly hard for way too long and sex deprived in general so when he comes it’s like getting run over by a semi. He just barely holds back obscene noises and bites his lip so hard he draws a drop of blood, which quickly disappears as Cas kisses him hotly, riding his own orgasm.

Cas collapses to the other side of the bed, his eyes closed as his chest still heaves up and down. Dean inhales and exhales, every muscle in his body is loose for the first time in weeks and his exhaustion begins to win out.

“That was good, Cas.”

Cas only grunts in agreement, as he squeezes his eyes shut still, as if to hold on to some fleeting moment. Dean ignores the mess on his chest and he slides over slightly, placing an arm around Castiel’s chest.

“I should get cleaned up,” Cas says after a long while of them lying there. Dean’s drifted in and out of consciousness several times, inhaling the familiar scent of Cas who always smells like the first cold day of fall when the leaves are turning colors.

They both wipe themselves off, Dean moving in an almost zombie-like state as he washes his face with cold water and shrugs on a warm long-sleeved Henley to sleep in. As they both crawl under the sheets, Dean wraps himself around Cas; a small change to their usual sleeping habit. He kisses lazily along Castiel’s shoulder as he squeezes Cas gently to him.

“I’m still here, you know. I didn’t mean to get caught up in all this…crap,” he offers, not sure if it’s even apology so much as an explanation for the last few weeks. The silence is deafening for a few minutes as Dean waits, his hands pressed again Castiel’s chest where his human heart beats in time with his.

“I don’t know how to save you, Dean.”

“I don’t think any of us can be saved anymore, Cas.”

“What do I do with that? I don’t know what to do with that information.”

“That’s being human, Cas. And I don’t know either,” Dean responds warily, his eyelids heavy. “Just sleep now, ok?”


	3. Bullet with Butterfly Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved"

April 2013

**Chapter 3: Bullet with Butterfly Wings**

Dean plops down on the picnic bench with an annoyed huff, slamming his plate down with more force than necessary. Risa raises her eyebrows slightly as she finishes the piece of bread in her hand.

“What’s eatin’ you?”

“Cas and all his hippy shit.”

Risa smirks slightly, stabbing her fork at the remaining niblets of corn that have rolled around her plate. “So? What’s that matter to you anyway?”

Dean glares at her, one hand drumming along the wooden table. “I mean, it doesn’t really matter I guess but it’s just so _stupid_.”

Risa can’t help but laugh as she brings a stray kernel of corn to her lips. She’s not quite sure how to navigate this conversation because there’s the drug thing which of course Dean must know about because Abby knows…or it could be about the women fawning over Cas like he’s the new messiah.

“Is it because of his groupies?” she asks carefully, her eyes narrowed at Dean. “Are you _jealous_?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

“Hey, you’d have groupies too if you smiled once in a while,” she jokes, waving her fork at some nearby tables full of young women. She doesn’t need to look at Dean to hear his huff of discontent as he stabs his fork at the food on his plate.

“Where’s Cas anyway?” she ventures to ask.

“Scouting mission with Max,” he says around a mouthful of food.

“Max…the one with the pound of pot perpetually in his jacket?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dean shrugs slightly, “he’s great at getting around quietly and he still hates to use a gun so I had to put him to use somehow.”

Risa grunts in agreement as she pulls one leg one to the bench seat and draws it close to her chest. She’s not sure how to ask this, but she’s been curious for a while.

“Dean. Those things we saw on the last scouting mission. Their eyes…they were black. I mean, all black.”

Dean snaps his head up quickly from his plate and sets his fork down slowly. He sighs heavily, his shoulders sagging slightly as he leans forward and drops his voice to an almost whisper. Risa’s heart is pounding and she rests her head against her knee as she leans forward to listen. They’d all seen them before. The things that were usually at the center of a Croat hot spot and usually no one lived to talk about them but she’d seen them a few times. Once was a few months back when their old camp got overrun, and Colin had mysteriously shown up infected…and then he’d infected Carys too. None of it made sense.

She listens intently as Dean talks, his voice dropping quieter each time someone walks near. Risa tries to keep her panic from bubbling out of her the second she hears the word “demon” and she lets out a small gasp. Dean doesn’t stop talking though and it’s as if he’s needed to just tell someone about this, so she listens and stomps out the fear that’s threatening to knock her over if she lets it. There’s not really room for fear these days or you get yourself killed.

Her head reels as Dean describes them, the black smoke and the reasons why both camps have had perpetual salt lines lining every corner. Her hand reaches up to the tattoo on her right shoulder blade as she listens, the small things all adding up; the precautions they’ve had to take.

“So what to do we do?” she finally interrupts, her voice sounding more shrill than she’d like it to. “I mean, Croats are bad but…demons? I wouldn’t believe you except nothing gets weirder than zombies so I think I’ll believe almost anything now,” she says, reasoning out loud.

Dean leans back finally, running his hands through his hair and then down his face. He exhales slowly and picks his fork back up, keeping his eyes downcast. “I’m workin’ on it, I can’t say yet but…I’m workin’ on it,” he offers with a small shrug.

Risa grabs at her cup of water, her hands slightly shaking from the new information. Her eyes meet with Dean’s and for the first time in a long while, she really sympathizes with someone. She doesn’t envy the weight on his shoulders. She takes a deep breath and flips her hair over her shoulders, regaining her composure.

“We’ll handle that shit when we need to,” she offers with what she hopes is an encouraging smile. “I assume Cas knows this too, demons and stuff?”

Which elicits a loud laugh from Dean; a rarity that makes Risa turn her head to the side and narrow her eyebrows.

“Yeah, trust me, he knows,” he says as he shakes his head with a small chuckle.

Risa puffs out her cheeks slightly in annoyance as she rests her chin in her hands. “I don’t think I even want to know.”

“What about you?” Dean asks, his mouth full of food. “You never told me how you survived the apocalypse and showed up knowing how to kick the ass of everyone around you.” He pauses for a moment taking a sip of water. “Plus, you’re not a hunter so…”

Risa pulls her hair back into a messy ponytail and purses her lips slightly. “You’re asking me for _my_ story now, huh?”

She laughs and closes her eyes, leaning back slightly as she digs her heels into the soft ground below. “It sure didn’t involve demons.” She pauses again, because this isn’t a conversation she had been preparing to have with anyone. She thinks of Janet, and Abby, the only people she’s really confided in.

“My dad was an MMA fighter from Mexico. He moved here, retired when he got injured, and opened up a gym,” she says with a shrug. “I grew up around fighting.”

“Shit,” Dean says, “that’s pretty cool.”

“My mom left when I was a kid and never came back…and then my dad got sick a few years ago. At the time it was the worst thing to ever happen to me. I thought if I prayed hard enough and took good care of him, he’d get better,” she shrugs and looks down at her cup, swirling the contents slightly.

“Ya, there’s no one up there anymore to pray to,” Dean says with a grimace.

Risa looks up, not sure how to answer. She’s never been great at opening up with people. “I don’t know, man. Now I’m glad he’s gone, you _know_? This…” she motions around, “all of this would have killed him. My dad was soft hearted. I don’t think he’d want to see the world like this.”

“What about you?” Dean asks, no hint of mockery in his voice.

“I think I’ve always been more like my mom,” she says with a shrug. She hates admitting it but it’s true.

“Oh, I think Cas and Max are back,” she says, relieved to cut the conversation short as she spots the two men heading towards their table. Dean turns around and waves them over, the smallest hint of relief is evident in the way the corner of his mouth turns up when Cas waves back.

“I’m gonna go, I’ve got watch duty soon. It was nice chatting though,” she says as she pats Dean on the arm and walks away before she gets sucked into a long drawn out discussion of tactics and plans for things that she really is too tired to hear right now when the only word circling around her mind is “demons”.

*********

Dean lets his eyes travel briefly down Cas’ body, not sure if he appreciates this new wardrobe of pastel colored fabric that hangs loosely on a frame that is not really meant to be hidden away. He brings his eyes back up and tries to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Cas’ eyes are at least bright and clear as he settles in to the seat beside Dean and waves at Max who quickly retreats.

“I think you scare him, Dean”.

“That’s fine with me,” Dean retorts, turning so that his legs are straddling the bench. He ignores as Cas rolls his eyes and runs his hands through his hair.

“Demons are everywhere. We’re close,” Cas says quietly.

“That’s good. I dunno why you sound so upset. We’re close to finding the Colt and icing the devil.”

Dean ignores the way Cas picks at the wood on the bench and diverts his attention away, instead staring the opposite way. Dean lets him think through what he wants to say, knowing him, he’s just working out how to phrase some problem he sees in the plan.

Sure enough, a moment later Cas turns to look at him, a crease between his eyebrows. “We need to tell people. They can’t be led to certain death against something they don’t even know exists.”

Dean grins, “I figured you would say that. I told Risa today.”

“That’s a…step. How did she take it?”

“As well as you can expect, man. She believed me of course, she acted like she wasn’t shaken but she kind of bolted out of here anyway.” Dean shakes his head and smiles grimly. “I guess we took it for granted that we grew up knowing this shit was out here”.

Cas pauses a moment before broaching his next topic, but Dean waves a hand at him to shut him down before he can even say it. Before he can say “Sam”, which is still a topic they rarely touch.

“I know, okay?” Dean says, pushing his hands into the wood of the bench and focusing his strength on doing so, rather than looking at Cas. It doesn’t escape Dean that tracking down the devil means coming face to face with his brother, and if he can’t even say his name anymore, how is he supposed to look at him? To look at the devil wearing his body and impersonating him, but to know that Sam is unreachable.

Dean feels a warm hand on his shoulder and it calms him, steadies him, or at least enough for him to stop seeing a face in his mind that he sees every night and dreams of endlessly. Cas stands, offering a hand towards Dean to help him up as well.

“We should tell them soon, everyone, Dean. They can’t be mindless rats in a maze running to their deaths.”

“I know, Cas. Trust me, I know.”

Dean follows Cas back to the main area of the camp and they fall back into their routine of discussing strategies and their next missions. Sometimes it is easier to act as if this is normal; their lives have always been this way, a series of winning battles for survival but a losing war that never seems to end. Dean smirks to himself as he thinks that, realizing he’s sounding more like Cas lately.

They part ways with silent looks between them, each of them lost within their own thoughts of the impossible cliff ahead of them. Dean thinks of talking to Abby, telling her privately, but he grins as he sees Cas heading towards her cabin already. “Bastard” he thinks, but he’s secretly relieved to not have to tell her. She’s like a younger sister to him and he isn’t sure he can stand to be the one to destroy what little innocence she has left.

Instead he goes to the supply cabin to count their stock, a somewhat obsessive measure he’s taken up since becoming leader of an ever diminishing group.

*********

Dean wrings his hands behind his back as he paces across the hardwood floor of the cabin he shares with Cas. He called a group meeting for the afternoon, after dinner, when people would be less likely to gossip and talk afterwards. He’s not sure how to even begin to tell a large group of people about it, about everything.

It’s been a long time-coming, and certainly some people already know. The people who were parts of older camps, some of the ones from their original group who were friends of hunters, saved by hunters before the world turned to shit and turned everyone into hunters, scavengers, fighting to survive. Dean fiddles with one of the candles littering the surface of the dresser, turning it over and over in his hand as he thinks.

A gentle knock at the door startles him and he drops the candle, glass shattering across the floor. “Fuck” he mumbles, as he steps over the shards to pull open the door.

“What’d you break?” Abby says, grinning up at him, one shoulder leaning against the open doorway.

“One of Cas’ stupid candles,” he says with a frown.

Dean motions her in as he grabs a dirty shirt to help sweep the small pieces of the candle together in a pile. “Watch your feet, Ab,” he says as he scoops some larger shards into his hands and dumps them on the top of the dresser. Out of the corner of his eye he sees her sit on the edge of the bed and pull her feet up, tucking her knees under her chin.

“So I assume Cas told you? About demons, I mean”, he says, his back still turned. He’s not sure he needs to see the disappointment in her eyes too.

Abby inhales slightly, and Dean turns around quickly, his eyes narrowing. He takes in how wide her eyes are and the way her fingers wrap around the tips of her shoes.

“Shit”, Dean pauses, “he didn’t tell you did he?”

Abby shakes her head and looks down at her feet, her hair creating a curtain around her face. She laughs slightly before looking back up. “I can’t pretend I didn’t suspect it though.”

Dean sits next to her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He’s not sure how to even comfort her, and if this sucks, it’s just a trial run for tonight. He supposes he should be grateful that at least he told Risa and Abby.

A brief worry crosses Dean’s mind and he looks back at Abby, dying to ask her why Cas went to see her if he didn’t intend to tell her about the existence of demons. He wants to ask if Cas is having more headaches, if the glazed look in his eyes is due to whatever way he is choosing to medicate himself, at least on the few nights Dean has spent in their cabin. He shakes his head, reminding himself that he’s being selfish, and part of him is itching for a fight, and not with Abby.

“So do you have, uh, any questions?”

“Obviously, but do they matter?” Abby says starkly.

“They might,” Dean says, a questioning tone to his voice.

“How do we kill them?”

“You can exorcise them, which is time consuming. If you have the right kind of blade, you can stab them and kill them like that. Salt circles can keep them out, and holy water burns them.”

“And that’s it?”

“I guess so,” Dean replies, his answer so perilously close to what he wants to really tell her. Their eyes meet and Abby gives him a reassuring smile, patting his hand with hers.

“There’s more. You can tell me, you know.”

He takes a deep breath, running his hands over his face. He debates not telling her but he has to tell everyone anyway, and even though she’s too young to deal with this crap, she’s here too. She has a way of drawing information out of him anyway, and he suspects she’s just one of those people who can guilt him into anything anyway, not unlike his brother. So he exhales and he starts.

“There’s a weapon I’ve been trying to track down. A weapon that can kill anything.”

“Anything? So demons? Bam, dead?”

“Demons…and anything worse.”

Abby mulls this over in her head and she nods slightly. “That sounds better than using salt I guess,” she says with a laugh.

“Pretty much.”

“So that’s why you’re always gone? You’ve been looking for this weapon on your own?”

Dean pauses and looks at her, turning his head slightly to the side in question.

“Cas misses you”, she says bluntly.

Blood rises straight to his head and he stumbles over his words in embarrassment, “well, whatever”.

“So what is this weapon? Will it take care of all the demons in this area?” she asks, dropping the subject of Cas.

Dean coughs slightly, wishing he had something like that. “No, not exactly. It’s a, uh, well it’s a gun”.

“A gun? As in singular; just one?”

“Would it help if I said it was a _really_ cool gun?” he asks, giving her a cocky grin.

“Work on your pitch before you tell the camp tonight,” she says as she stands up and starts towards the door. “I’m going to lay down and process this because as calm as I look now, I’ll probably start shaking soon.”

Dean nods and thinks of giving her a hug but decides against it as she steps back, waving him off. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ve survived worse,” she says with a sad smile. “Oh, I did want to tell you to talk to Cas about his painkiller use. I warned you about this before, so just…get it in check with him, okay?”

With a sigh, Dean throws himself backwards onto the bed and listens to the sound of the door close behind Abby.


	4. Search and Destroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Soul radiation in the dead of night  
> Love in the middle of a fire fight"

**Chapter 4: Search and Destroy**

Dean paces back and forth across the wooden floor of the main group cabin. Maps and tips for survival cover every inch of the old wood walls. Hastily drawn diagrams on loading a gun, gun maintenance, and how-to’s on proper aiming techniques. Dean tries not to look at them, the reminder of all the people who have worked so hard to keep this place running; to keep them all alive. He doesn’t want to think about letting everyone down and what that could mean for them.

Instead, he goes through his words in his head. He’s never really been one to prepare for a speech, usually riding through his emotions wherever they take him. This time is different though and he looks wearily to the seat where Cas would normally be sitting and giving him tips in an attempt to be helpful. The loneliness pangs like the familiar ache in his bones when it rains. He ignores it, instead focusing on how the hell to even describe the mission he wants to set out for the camp. How does he tell all of them that they are going to hunt down the devil? He pulls out a chair and flops down into it, his hands running over his face as he tries to consider all sides. He ignores the image in his head of Sam, of the sarcastic thing he would say about this foolish plan. He ignores the sad pair of blue eyes that are so full of weariness and disappointment. He thinks of the devil, of his mother and his father, and the people they’ve lost. He thinks of them, and the way things used to be; and now he has his angle.

*********

The room is packed, and Dean hates to think of the phrase “packed like sardines” but that’s exactly what they look like. Their camp isn’t large by any means, but their group cabin is even smaller. To fit everyone in, they’d had to move some of the tables outside and push all the remaining chars against the wall. Dean anxiously runs his hands along the rolled up paper in his hands; a last minute idea.

Once the door is closed, the night-watch is set on the camp periphery and the cabin itself has a ring of salt lining each window and door, Dean begins. The words flow out faster than he expected, pausing only to allow the group to take in some of the more frightening prospects. He leaves the name “devil” out of it for as long as he can.

As he begins to talk, he finds that it’s almost impossible to stop. He reminds them of how life used to be and they all laugh when he mentions the internet. The adrenaline begins to pump through his veins as he talks, as he lets loose some of the venom that has been poisoning him for months.

“I’m tired of living like this; living in fear. I want to take back the world, to rebuild.” He says it so bitterly, he’s not sure they will even believe that he wants to rebuild anything, but many heads nod in unison.

“If it bleeds, we can kill it,” he says, “we’ve been fighting Croats for years now. What’s a little something new?”

One man stands up in the back, a young black guy named Darrell who recently joined up. “So what do we use to hunt down this demon, the one who caused all of this?”

Dean smiles, he’s always liked this guy although until now it was only because he knew how to fire a gun without being shown. “That’s a good question,” he replies as he begins to unroll the paper in his hands. He’s grateful to finally unroll it because his palms are so sweaty at this point, he’s not sure the paper would hold up much longer in his hands.

As he holds up the paper and the slightly shitty drawing of the Colt, Dean looks around the room to judge the reactions of those around him. His eyes meet with Abby’s and she winks at him, which prompts him to give them the same response he gave her.

“Don’t worry, it’s not just a gun, it’s a really _cool_ gun”.

Chuckles spread out quietly and the tension diffuses as Dean tells them about the gun, or what he knows of it. “It can kill anything,” he pauses for dramatic, “can you imagine what that could mean for us?”

Murmurs pass throughout the crowd and small smiles begin to break out across faces here and there. Relief begins to flood through Dean and he wipes the small beads of sweat away from his forehead. He even begins to feel hopeful himself; maybe they really could do this.

“Look, there’s no god here, no one here to save us,” his eyes meet briefly with Chuck’s who stares back with an unreadable expression. “We’re on our own and I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sick of living in hell.”

Fists begin to be thrown up in the air and a few of the burly guys in back (and Risa) begin to holler things in agreement. Whispers and talk spread quickly and Dean can feel the energy level rising, as well as the temperature as people begin to move around and turn to talk to the people around them. He feels weak in the knees at the prospect of this happening; _it’s actually happening_.

“We’re going to live again, not just survive” he tells everyone, allowing the hush to spread across the room as he steps to the side, allowing the attention to focus away from him and his word to float around the minds of the people of the camp.

*********

Over an hour later, Dean trudges back to his cabin, trying to not get caught by another camp member with a million questions. He’d thought he’d addressed things pretty thoroughly with his speech but it was apparently like opening Pandora’s Box; everyone has a question and many of them he has no idea how to answer.

He opens the door to the cabin and rolls his eyes as he sees Cas sitting in the bed, legs crossed and eyes closed.

“Glad to have your support back there, Goose”

Cas opens one eye and raises his eyebrow at the same time. Dean sighs, “Goose- the wing-man to my Maverick,” he says with a half-hearted wink.

Cas closes his eye again with a shrug, “that sounds like an inaccurate summary of our relationship, but I am most likely missing the reference.”

With a sigh Dean shrugs off his coat and kicks off his boots. Cas seems to be in one of his moods again, and he takes a quick look around the room for any bottles of narcotics. Abby’s words echo in his mind, he ignores the ones about Cas missing him but instead focuses on the ones about Cas’ substance abuse.

“So, were you too high to make it to the camp meeting?” Dean asks, the words coming out harsher than intended but he is too bone-tired to even care or try to fix it.

With his eyes closed, Cas rolls his head from side to side, the small pops and cracks of his joints are audible in the stiffening silence. Dean braces himself because he’d rather take an angry Cas than one who calmly seethes and answers him with collected thoughts.

Cas finally opens his eyes and they are burning with anger, the small light in the corner of the room only highlights his brows and serves to accentuate the dark circles under his eyes. Dean feels guilty for a brief second, but brief it is.

“How long have you been on this Earth, Dean?”

“What, going to ask how old I am, Cas?”

“I have been here for millennia. I’ve seen civilizations rise and crumble.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean says, unsure of where this going.

“I was just thinking, how joyous it is to personally be a part of it.”

There is silence as Dean tries to keep his jaw from dropping open slightly. He knows Cas can be a cynical jerk, but jeeze he’s bad when he’s stoned. Cas starts to chuckle quietly to himself as he remains seated cross-legged on the bed.

“You cannot possibly understand, Dean. I have too much in my head. Every day that my remaining grace diminishes, I feel the pressure and weight of it. It would be impossible for me not to try to find some sort of escape.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re making excuses, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t an apathetic bastard.”

“How arrogant your rule,” he says taking a breath and opening his eyes, “You are selfishly leading everyone to their deaths,” Cas responds, closing his eyes again with a small breath.

“Fuck you, Cas.”

*********

Cas opens his eyes slowly as the door shuts behind Dean. With a deep sigh he falls back onto the bed and clutches at his heart. The room spins slightly as he opens his eyes again and tries to imagine the stars; the stars as he used to know them. Not the distant way he looks upon them now as far-away twinkling dots.

He runs his hands over his face, the loneliness having become a sad virus that has consumed his body whole. The silence in his head permeates his waking thought. He reaches below the mattress for the small bottle of painkillers. He doesn’t bother reading the label, he just pours a few out into his hand and throws them into his mouth.

The pain in his head is a dull throb, almost a welcome friend by now. It reminds him that he is alive; even when he doesn’t want the reminder. He brings his fingers to his mouth, wondering how he could let such vile words out. He longs to stand up, to find Dean and apologize. Not because what he said wasn’t truth, but because it didn’t need to be said.

He turns on his side, his hand reaching out to the empty space to his side. Instead, he wraps his arms around his shoulders, his fingers grasping for the knobs where his wings used to be. He closes his eyes and focuses on his anatomical structure, on his proprioception. He feels for the remnants of his grace, the small flutter of power that barely extends to his fingertips; instead localized like a tumor inside of his heart.

With a great sigh, he rolls onto his back again, the familiar toss and turn routine that plagues him each night.


	5. Landslide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can the child within my heart rise above?  
> Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?  
> Can I handle the seasons of my life?"

June 2013

**Chapter 5: Landslide**

Castiel sprints through the trees, hopping over the occasional fallen log in his path. Ahead of him, he watches Dean move quickly through the brush and pull out his walkie, giving commands quickly between breaths. Dean looks over his shoulder and slows down, waiting for Cas to catch up.

With a quick look over his shoulder, Cas pulls his gun up and aims a shot at branch that is hanging by a thread after the last round of bullets and grenades. The branch comes falling down on a few Croats that had been chasing them. Cas counts his bullets again before tucking it away safely in the holster wrapped around his waist.

As Castiel catches up to Dean, he holds up the bag slung around his shoulder.

“Not often we bring up the rear of the search party, but we got what we came for?” Dean asks, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Castiel nods and turns to check they aren’t being followed before he doubles over to catch his breath. Dean leans against a tree, wiping sweat from his forehead and his neck. Cas tries to pretend that he doesn’t notice the way Dean’s shirt clings tightly to his torso due to his perspiration. The summer is nearly as brutal as the winter, with temperatures sometimes reaching into the 100s.

Dean pulls out his walkie again, asking for approximate distances and locations of the rest of the group. Cas longs to reach out, to touch Dean. The last few months have been tumultuous; an up and down tidal wave of fighting and making up. He’s not sure where they stand right now, their last fight was a few days ago. It certainly wasn’t one of their worst, and it was about the same thing; the drugs, the plan to kill Lucifer, and their underlying incompetence at knowing how to need one another.

“They’re not far ahead, if we sprint we can catch up,” Dean says, pushing himself away from the tree that had been supporting him. He reaches up and touches Cas on his shoulder, patting him briefly before quickly yanking his arm away again in uncertainty. Cas gives him a small smile and nods, preparing himself to run again.

They move quickly and quietly, both surprisingly having the same amount of endurance. They set a fast pace, stopping only once or twice to catch their breaths. It’s a small rhythm, one that reminds Cas that they _can_ work together, that sometimes it’s as easy as just letting go. He runs, feeling the ache in his muscles as they are pushed to exertion and sweat drips from his brows into his eyes. He catches Dean watching him several times with a small smile.

“You look good, Cas. You look like you could run for miles,” he says when their eyes meet.

Cas laughs, “You don’t seem to have trouble keeping up…yet”.

“That’s only because I haven’t seen a burger or a damn piece of pie in about…forever,” Dean jokes between breaths. “It’s good to see you clear-headed,” he adds quietly, picking up his pace to run slightly ahead of Castiel.

There’s nothing to say to that, so Castiel keeps his mouth shut, concentrating on breathing in and out. They catch up to the rest of the group, a few newbies, Darrell, and Abby who came along as medical backup.

“Group 2 split up and go the other way as planned?” Dean asks. Darrell nods and pulls out a map, pointing out the route to the others.

“We get split up, go this way,” he tells some of the newer members who have never been on a mission this complicated. Castiel leans over to look at the map, pointing out hot-spots that aren’t marked.

They continue on as one group, wary and fighting exhaustion. Abby slows to walk next to Cas, bumping her shoulder against his.

“How are you feeling?” she asks quietly.

“Good actually. It helps to be doing something, even if I’m not in agreement with the end result.”  


“Cas, we took a camp vote. We decided as a group to find this gun that will kill anything. You need to stop blaming Dean for it.” She looks back at his face, “don’t pout”.

Abby leans in to his ear to whisper, “I voted against it though, just between you and me”.

Castiel throws up his arms in annoyance, “exactly my point!” She laughs but jogs ahead, pointing at the medical bag slung around his shoulders, “I’m keeping an eye on you, by the way”.

He brings his hand to his head in a joking salute to her, but tightens his other hand around the bottle of pills in his pocket. He jumps as he feels a hand clamp around his shoulder and he turns his head quickly to the side, nearly bumping noses with Dean who is leaning in close.

“We’re being followed,” Dean whispers, “pull your gun out, be discreet.”

Cas nods and leans slightly into the hand Dean places against his lower back. He flits his eyes to the right and the left, looking to notice any movement.

“Two in back, one on the right” Dean says but that’s the last thing he gets out before a figure jumps out from behind the shadows of the trees to the left of them. It moves quickly, racing forward. The group is prepared, Cas having been the last one to be warned apparently.

Castiel and Dean team up to take the two enemies that are closing in on the group from behind. Castiel rolls his eyes as he sees two figures step out from the brush, smiles on their faces and black eyes.

Dean pulls out his walkie and tells the group to keep moving, that him and Cas will catch up with them. Abby responds, her breath catching between words, “are you sure?” but Dean doesn’t have a chance to respond. He’s thrown across the ground by the female demon, his walkie skittering to the side. Castiel doesn’t have much time to respond but his gun is up and aimed for the weaker demon, the man off to the side.

The female demon laughs, “I thought you were smarter than that, little cherub” she says with a sneer. Moments later however, the second demon clutches the hole in his chest and digs around for the bullet.

“Hunters 101, bitch” Dean says as he stands and races towards the female demon, his knife dripping holy water from the tips. Cas moves at the same time Dean does, firing two more bullets into the demon on the ground, incapacitating him and unscrewing the cap to his water bottle (holy water tastes the same to him anyway), flinging the holy water at the female demon.

Dean is thrown to the side again, against a tree but not before he tosses his knife to Castiel in a well-practiced maneuver. Cas catches it, small droplets of holy water flying onto his hand. He twirls it expertly as he lunges forward to drive it into the female demon.

Unexpectedly, fingers wrap around his ankle, twisting and pulling him away. The male demon is on the ground but has Cas’ ankle in a tight grip. The female demon turns her attention away from Dean and pulls at Castiel’s hair, as he lies on the ground. She tilts his head back so that he is looking up at her.

“Break his foot. He may not have his wings, but let’s make _sure_ he can’t escape,” she says and he hears the crack before he can feel it. He lets out a scream as the pain floods every inch of his body and his vision goes black.

*********

When he wakes up, it takes a moment to register where he is, but more important is the throbbing pain emanating from his ankle. He winces and grabs at it, noticing the bandaging already tightly woven around.

“I guess it’s a good thing you were carrying these on you, huh?” Dean says as he walks over and tosses the bottle of painkillers at Cas.

Castiel looks down, ashamed, unsure of how to respond.

“Hey, are you okay? I didn’t mean to be a jerk but it really is good we have these. Take a few. Well I should specify that means _just_ two.”

He doesn’t need more prompting than that, swallowing two down without any water. Still groggy, he looks around, noticing now that he’s propped against a tree, some ways away from where they had been fighting those two demons. Two lumps in the grass tell him that those demons are no longer a threat. He turns his head quickly back to Dean.

“How did you take out both of them?”

Dean smiles a little, “Dude when they broke your ankle, you let out the worst scream I have ever heard. You’re such a girl.”

Castiel lifts his arm to swat gently at Dean who is sitting across from him, inspecting his leg. “I’m just kidding, Cas. I’d probably scream like that too. I just…I kind of saw red for a while there.”

“So you were defending me?”

Dean laughs and looks away, a small flush crossing his cheeks. He coughs and changes the subject quickly. “Your ankle is definitely broken. I got my walkie working again and talked to Abby. She said they could come back for us but I told her we’d just slow them down.”

“That was nice of you. So now what? What if we’re attacked again?” Cas says, calculating the odds of getting home on a bum foot and the fact that both of them are exhausted (and most likely out of bullets).

“I guess I didn’t think about that,” Dean says with a shrug. “I figured we can hold our own. It’s safer for them to get back as soon as possible.”

Castiel knows that’s probably the most logical plan but the pain radiating from his leg is making him nauseous and he doesn’t want to imagine hobbling on it all the way home. “So, should we get going?” he says with a sigh.

“Naw, it’s already dark out, Dean says looking at the fading sunlight. “We’d have even less of a chance if we got attacked in the pitch black.”

“I have a feeling I am not going to like this,” Cas says wearily.

*********

Castiel leans back against Dean, the painkillers taking some sort of effect finally. The straps around his legs and torso shift and groan with every slight move. Dean reminds Cas not to look down, to which Cas can only chuckle with amusement.

“I’m not afraid of heights, Dean”

“Well, that makes one of us,” Dean replies, as he presses his head against Castiel’s neck. Cas can feel his eyelashes brushing him slightly as Dean closes his eyes and breathes deeply in and out. Despite the pain in his leg, a warmth spreads quickly from every part of his body that is touching Dean; his back against Dean, Dean’s hands wrapped tightly around his waist. His dick twitches in response, which Castiel hopes Dean does not notice.

“Dude we’re tied to a goddamn tree branch by old ropes and I’m hoping we don’t fall to our deaths here. Don’t think you’re getting lucky right now, buddy.”

Castiel laughs, a slight flush crossing his cheeks, which he is thankful that Dean cannot see. “So I’m guessing you won’t be doing much sleeping?”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Cas sighs, “I’ll stay up too then”. Dean doesn’t respond but he can feel his grin against the back of his neck the way Dean’s hands tighten around him.

There’s not much else to do, so they talk in a way they haven’t talked in a long while. Castiel wishes he could turn and see Dean’s face, but Dean has always opened up more when he could talk freely without fear of being seen. Cas listens to stories about Dean in school, and stories about hunting on his own-the years Sam was away at Stanford.

Cas tells Dean about heaven, the heavens that he would frequently visit. The old autistic man with a kite; the heaven of a great painter who has created more beautiful works of art after death than he did while on Earth.

“Let me guess, Van Gogh?” Dean says quietly.

“I’m surprised you know much about art, honestly” Cas responds, a new love and appreciation blooming in his heart.

“Was I right?”

Cas nods his head and grins to himself.

“You seem like the type. He had a bunch of issues right?”

“I suppose so,” Castiel responds, wishing he had enough grace left in him to give Dean the images he sees in his own mind.

“You ever visit like, John Lennon…Jim Morrison? Any of the music greats?”

Castiel laughs audibly this time, “I’m afraid not any of them. Would it impress you if I said Bach and Mozart?”

“I guess they fit the bill,” Dean says, placing a soft kiss against Castiel’s neck. “Did you know, when I was a kid I wanted to be a rockstar. I played a little bit of guitar.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Cas says.

“I think realistically though, I’d probably wanna do what Abby does,” he pauses, “helping people” he adds quietly.

“I don’t know what I would do if I was a human and had to choose a profession,” Cas admits, wrinkling his nose at the idea of it.

“You’d be a theology professor or some shit; that weird hot professor,” Dean says, running his hands up and down Castiel’s chest.

Cas laughs again, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, Dean. I’d want to help people too though. I agree with you on that”.

Castiel listens for a response, noticing the way Dean’s heartbeat has slowed and his breathing is shallow. “Do you want to sleep now?”

Dean nods, burying his face against Cas’ back and pulling him tightly to him as he checks the rope around them one more time.

“Mmm, think I will pass out from exhaustion now, whether or not we fall to ours deaths later.”

“Night, Dean,” Cas says, as he waits for a response that never comes. He reaches a hand into his pocket, by habit, feeling for his bottle of painkillers. His hand wraps around nothing and he sighs, the pain in his leg still constant but held at bay only by the migraine pounding through his head.


	6. Skyfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is the end  
> Hold your breath and count to ten  
> Feel the earth move and then  
> Hear my heart burst again"

June 2013

**Chapter 6: Skyfall**

After the arduous process of getting down from their position in the tree, at the break of dawn they are finally both on solid ground, maybe a little worse for wear. Dean has twigs stuck to his coat and leaves stuck randomly in his hair. Castiel would laugh if not for the pain of his ankle, which he leans against the tree to relieve.

Dean messes with his walkie, smacking it against the palm of his hand multiple times.

“Damn thing, it was working last night.”

“The batteries are probably out,” Castiel replies, to which Dean rolls his eyes. “Obviously, Cas. I’m just saying it sucks and is bad timing.”

Despite their pleasant evening, the morning ordeal of climbing down from the tree, coupled with their hunger and overtired muscles, has both of them snappy and irritated. Cas pushes off from the tree and attempts to walk on his own, putting the slightest bit of pressure on his foot.

With a wince, he leans back against the tree, closing his eyes.

“Here, lean on me, we’ll go slow, but we’ll get there,” Dean says, wrapping his arm around Castiel’s waist. “Don’t put any pressure on that foot, you’ll just make it worse. Abby can take a look at it when we get back.”

“I agree, it does suck that the walkie no longer functions. This would be easier and safer with more people.”

Dean shrugs his shoulders in response, helping hold Castiel up despite the ache in his muscles. They move slow, staying away from the main path through the woods, taking breaks often. Luckily the camp isn’t too far off, but they have to be careful not to leave a trail. Dean sets Cas down on a stray log as he backtracks, covering their trail with sticks and scuffing their footprints. They move slowly but when they are less than a mile away, they take one last break.

Castiel allows Dean to help set him down on a nearby stump. Before Dean can straighten up, Cas reaches up and wraps an arm around his neck, bringing their lips together in a kiss he hadn’t expected to give. Dean melts against him, sinking to his knees and deepening the kiss, groaning in pleasure. Castiel runs his hands through Dean’s hair as Dean presses against him, his hands running up and down Cas’ back, tugging roughly at his shirt.

They break apart as they almost topple off the stump together and both look away slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” Cas says, pressing a palm against his growing erection in his pants.

Dean laughs and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, still kneeling in front of Cas. “Same here”.

Cas takes a drink from his water bottle, giving the last bit to Dean who has been out of water for the last two miles. Dean takes it happily and stands up, pulling Cas up with him.

“You know what should be nearby? Baby.”

Castiel wrinkles his nose in displeasure, “baby?” he says, “since when do you call me that?”

“Not you, moron. My car, the impala,” Dean says, rolling his eyes.

“Well, let’s look for your car later,” Cas says, eyeing the trail behind them warily.

“You were all fine to pause and make out a second ago and give me blue balls, but we don’t have time to find my car now?”

Cas laughs, a small twinkle in his eye, “I never said I’m not a selfish asshole”.

“I think that’s my line, man,” Dean says as they continue forward.

*********

They trudge back into the camp around midday, when the summer sun is high in the sky, causing them to sweat out every sip of water they’ve taken throughout the day. The cicadas hum from the woods surrounding the camp, and gnats hang heavy in the air in clusters.

Dean sets Cas down on a nearby bench as several people come up to them. Risa sends most of them away, giving out various tasks before any of them can speak.

“Where’s Abby, we’ve gotta have her take a look at Cas,” Dean says, wandering towards her cabin and turning to give Cas a small wave.

“Dean!” Risa yells out, running up to him. “Hey,” she pauses, “you’re needed at the supply cabin.”

“Are you kidding? That can wait. I’ll be just a minute” he says in irritation.

Castiel watches as Risa grabs his arm, but is too far away to hear what she says. Cas looks around the camp, noticing the lack of activity and the solemn faces. Dean stomps towards the supply cabin and Cas almost feels sorry for whatever wrath Chuck is about to endure.

Risa jogs back up towards Cas, and he can see her face drop whatever mask she had just been wearing. She sits down next to him on the bench, clasping her hands together in her lap.

“Are you okay?” she asks, eyeing his swollen ankle.

“I’m fine,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “What happened?”

She takes a deep breathe, and Cas puts it all together without her saying a word.

“No,” he says, stopping her.

“You need to hear it because you need to tell Dean. This is going to kill him,” she hisses, her voice low. “You aren’t the only one who cares about him.”

Castiel drops his head, running his hands through his hair.

“Tell me.”

“Short story: they got ambushed. One of demons burned off her tattoo and possessed her. Jim, one of the new guys got scared, shot her. There was nothing they could do. The demon smoked out or whatever-got away.”

“Dean’s going to kill him,” Cas says, tears will up in his eyes. “Abby was like a sister to him. You don’t mess with Dean’s family.”

“I know,” Risa says quietly. “That’s why you can’t tell him”.

“Great. Why’d you have to tell me?”

“Because you need to tell Dean what happened, that it was a demon and that there was nothing we could do.” Risa explains, her cracking her knuckles nervously.

Castiel laughs, throws back his head and laughs at the irony through his own tears. “He’s going to blame himself, you know. That’s what will happen and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

He stops laughing, as a sob threatens to escape his throat. He looks at Dean who is stomping over angrily. “Goddamn Chuck, he looked at me like I was crazy” he says. “Did Abby come by yet?”

Cas looks over at Risa who pats his shoulder, “I’m late for watch, I’ll see you guys later. Hope your leg is okay, Cas”.

Cas watches her walk away and the tightness in his chest only gets worse. He wonders if he could have a heart attack right now and maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with the idea of Abby’s death, with _how_ she died, and that he’d somehow have to tell Dean.

“Can we wait in the cabin, Dean?” he asks, hobbling to stand on one foot. “I’m exhausted”.

Dean nods and gives him a small smile as he wraps his arm around Cas’ waist and helps him over to their cabin. Once inside, Dean sets Cas on the bed and helps him gently remove his remaining shoe (the other had been stuffed into his bag once Cas got hurt). Cas allows it, the small brief moments of kindness and love before he gives Dean the news that would surely plunge him into darkness.

As Dean removes Cas’ shirt and gives him a long kiss on the lips, Cas pulls away in disgust of himself and his own selfishness.

“Dean, stop, I need to talk to you.”

“Please, Cas, I need this, I need you right now,” Dean says quietly, looking down. Dean’s voice shakes slightly and his hands wrap tightly around the bed sheets as he sinks to his knees. He reaches one hand up, pulling Cas down for another kiss.

“You know,” Cas says, sitting back again.

Dean nods, looking at his hand in his lap. Cas steps gently off the bed, sinking to the floor beside Dean. “Who told you?”

“No one. I just…I knew,” he laughs bitterly, “like hell she’d make you wait around on a bum ankle.”

Cas nods and wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders which start to shake at the touch. Dean pushes Cas away, a menacing look in his eyes as he says, “Don’t.”

“Everyone who I care about dies. Everyone,” Dean hisses.

“Dean, please.”

“Dean leans back against the nightstand, pushing further away from Cas’ reach. Cas wants to hold him, or to be held, one and the same to him. The hole in his heart seems to only grow larger with each passing day.

“If I had been there, this wouldn’t have happened. But I chose to stay with you, to…” he trails off.

“I’m sorry,” Cas mumbles, unsure of how to feel. He hadn’t quite expected Dean to blame _him_ for this, but he’ll take it none-the-less. He looks down at his hands, then at his useless broken foot. He wishes he could fix it, that he had his grace and could bring Abby back, and make it so that Dean never hurt again. Moments pass and he grabs a bottle of painkillers from the nightstand, gulping down a few in the quiet darkness. He’s not sure which pain he’s trying to numb right now; his ankle or knot in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Cas murmurs again through the tears that cloud his vision, unsure whether the sounds of sobbing are coming from Dean or from himself. He’d thought having his foot broken was the most pain he had suffered. In reality it was this; the pain of loss and the great divide that comes with it. First it was Sam, then Bobby, and now Abby…Cas is unsure how many of their deaths he can shoulder the blame for, whether its blame from Dean or from himself.

Cas pulls himself back onto the bed and closes his eyes, willing himself to be anywhere but here. One hand dangles off the side of the bed, barely resting against Dean’s shoulder who is still sitting on the floor.

What seems like hours pass, but Castiel can never be sure anymore. He’s not sure he can ever understand the passage of time in the way that humans do. He drifts between consciousness and the painful dream world that haunts him as much as his waking life does. He opens one eye as he feels the pressure in the bed as Dean crawls over him to his normal spot; so commonly unused. Cas longs to reach out to him but stops himself, remembering Deans earlier words.

When Dean rolls to face him and pulls him close, Castiel is shocked, his eyes open wide. The moonlight illuminates the room enough that he can see Dean’s green eyes, red rimmed and puffy. The freckles stand out on his nose, against his pale pallor. Dean kisses him then, a needy and urgent kiss. Cas is reminded of a time years before, after burying Bobby, when Dean had crawled into his bed and done this same thing.

He understands it better now; the human emotion. He understands the need and finds that he wants and needs it just as much as Dean. As Dean scoots up close to him, Cas runs his hands through Dean’s hair, pulling the ends tightly.

“Please, Cas,” Dean whispers quietly.

“This is wrong. This isn’t the time.”

“Please, Cas, I need it. I don’t know what else to do or how else to need someone,” Dean says through gritted teeth, his fingers gripping tightly into Castiel’s hips.

Castiel nods, not sure if Dean can even see it, but he pulls Dean closer to him and kisses him hard. His tongue flits inside of Dean’s mouth and drags against the roof of his mouth as Dean gasps. He bites down on Dean’s bottom lip, scraping against his lips, chapped from their day in the sun. Cas doesn’t mean to draw blood but Dean lets out a loud groan at it; which doesn’t shock him since Dean tends to like it rough.

Ready to oblige in every way, Cas pulls tightly at Dean’s hair and pulls his head back as he sucks dark bruises along Dean’s neck. With one hand, Cas grabs Dean’s cock beneath his jeans and begins to stroke it slowly, purposely and painfully off rhythm. He goes agonizingly slow, pausing only for Dean to remove his jeans. Castiel removes his own and fails to hold back his own hiss of pleasure as him and Dean come into skin to skin contact finally. Dean scratches his nails up and down Castiel’s back and bites at his earlobes, tugging tightly as Cas squeezes Dean’s ass tightly in his hands.

Dean reaches into their nightstand, grabbing a bottle lube and tossing it to Cas.

“Fuck me, Cas” he says, his voice gravelly.

Typically Cas would a respond with a joke about making love versus fucking, but neither of them have any delusions about what they are doing. They want it; they need it, but not because of love. It’s a need born of pain and grief; of anger and despair. Cas motions for Dean to flip around and lie on his stomach, which Dean gratefully obliges. Cas doesn’t think he can stomach it; the expression of sadness and pain on Dean’s face as he enters him. They rarely have sex this way; this impersonal way that removes all eye contact.

Cas coats his fingers in the jelly, rubbing it on his hands to warm it up first. He goes slowly at first, but Dean only grunts and asks for more continually. Cas wonders if it’s Dean’s own form of punishment, to move this quickly. He adds more lube, opening Dean up carefully despite Dean’s protests. When he hits Dean’s prostate, Dean nearly screams and instead stuffs a pillow into his mouth. Cas rolls a condom onto his extremely hard dick, closing his eyes as he strokes himself several times.

He lines himself up with Dean and pushes in slowly, waiting for Dean to give him the okay. Dean lets out a whimper as Cas enters him, filling him in a way the fulfills some of his darkest and deepest needs. Dean gruffly tells Cas not to be gentle, and Cas is happy to oblige; their own twisted sexual desires matching each other. Cas scrapes his hands down Dean’s back, leaving small scratches.

Cas fucks him hard, eliciting a sharp inhale of pain from Dean at first which tumbles into the pleasure region when Cas angles slightly downward, instead hitting Dean’s prostate. Cas presses one hand into Dean’s shoulder blade, holding him in place. Dean’s elbows dig into the mattress and bites into his pillow to keep from making obscene noises.

In an act of selfishness, Cas doesn’t stroke Dean’s cock even once. He moves his hands to grab at the soft part of Dean’s hips, allowing his frustration and loneliness to drive him as he fills himself with the overwhelming feeling of being inside of someone else. He closes his eyes, moving closer to the end and pushes into Dean several more times before he comes.

When he pulls out, he flops to one side, tears in his eyes. Dean collapses face first into his pillow before rolling onto his back, looking at Cas with his own tear stained cheeks.

“Suck me off man, come on. That’s cruel.”

Cas nods, his own voice lost somewhere in the image of fucking into Dean so hard that he doubt Dean will be able to sit tomorrow. Instead he licks his lips, thoroughly wetting them before he scoots down, lining himself up with Dean’s erection.

It doesn’t take long or much work. Dean’s own tired thrusts are apparent and Cas swallows him whole and expertly. A pastime of happier times, Cas knows exactly how Dean likes it. He licks his tongue up Dean’s dick, slowly along the large vein that extends from the shift to the tip. Castiel takes him in, allowing his teeth to scrape painfully occasionally, waiting for the small hitches of breathe from Dean and the clenching of his balls. He goes faster, allowing Dean to hold his head in place with one hand as he pushes in further. Dean comes without much noise, a small groan and his hand limply drops from Castiel’s head.

While Dean lays in the darkness and the silence, Cas cleans them up. He washes his own tear-streaked cheeks and swishes some toothpaste around his mouth before he returns to bed with a wash cloth to wipe at Dean’s tears. Dean lets him, his lower lip shaking, and Cas knows he’s holding back a flood of emotions. Cas lets the towel drop to the floor as he crawls in to bed, covering them with the sheets and wrapping his arms around Dean.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers quietly, placing small kisses along Dean’s shoulders. He can feel Dean melt into him more and he holds him, he holds him all night until Dean’s shoulders stop shaking, until his breathe returns to normal, and the summer sun filters in through the blinds.


	7. Sounds of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And in the naked light I saw  
> Ten thousand people, maybe more.  
> People talking without speaking,  
> People hearing without listening,  
> People writing songs that voices never share  
> And no one dared  
> Disturb the sound of silence."

August 2013

**Chapter 7: Sounds of Silence**

Dean rubs his temples, poring over the map that they had recovered several months ago on the trip that cost them Abby’s life. He digs his knife further into the wood of the small table, his palms callus-filled and caked with dry blood.

He stands, grabbing a cloth from his back pocket and attempts to scrub some of the blood off from his hands. He twirls the knife a few more times before pocketing it. Pulling up a chair, he sits on it, straddling the backwards chair and resting his chin upon the back.

“So are you going to tell me where the Colt is? We can do it the easy way or the hard way.” he says, his eyes menacing as he looks up to meet the black eyes staring back at him.

The demon laughs, throwing its head back. “Do you think you scare me? While Lucifer walks this Earth, there’s not a demon who would sell him out.”

Dean shrugs before walking back to look at the map laid out on his table. “You see, we took down this place,” he pauses and looks back at the demon, “Where do you think we got that information?”

He grins and sets the map down, picking up a bottle of holy water and sits back in his chair, just outside the devils trap that the demon is tied up inside of.

*********

As Dean leaves the interrogation cabin, he signals to Risa who is nearby. “We got the info we need. We’ll have a meeting tonight and discuss a plan.”

She nods, striding to follow alongside Dean. “How do you do it?”

He raises an eyebrow in question, “What do you mean?”

“You and Cas…you’re the only ones who can get them talk. What the hell do you do to them?” Risa says, her eyes wide in question.

He shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t see why you care since we’re getting what we need.”

She shakes her head, “You two are a piece of work,” she says, her voice void of insult. It’s just a statement. “I assume there’s a body that needs to be taken care of?”

Dean nods and wipes at the blood on the top of his hands.

“You’ve got some here too,” Risa says as she reaches up to stroke a smearing of blood across his cheek. “You should really get washed up before anyone else sees you”.

He flashes her a half-smile, trying to keep up his calm exterior and stop the shaking in his legs. “You bet”, he says as he jogs ahead to his cabin and waves to her.

As he gets to his cabin, he steps inside and slams the door shut, sinking against the door. He’s not sure whether he’s exhausted from the physical exertion or because sometimes he scares himself with the demon he releases from inside. He wonders if he should be the one tied up in that chair instead, being interrogated for his crimes.

He takes time to catch his breath and to regain the strength in his legs before he walks into the bathroom to clean up. The sight of himself in the mirror send shivers down his spine and he quickly begins the process of cleansing himself of the evidence of the monster within. Blood spatters cover his face like freckles, and dark circles hang beneath his eyes giving him the appearance of the walking dead. He washes his hands, scrubbing beneath this fingernails to get the grime out.

Just as he finishes, Castiel hobbles in on his crutches, tossing his gun holster onto a pile of clothing. He stops when he sees Dean and gives him a crooked smile. Dean looks away quickly, recognizing the stoned look and stupid smile on his face. Cas’ beard has grown in and that bothers Dean in every way that it shouldn’t. Dean scrubs his hand idly down his own jaw feeling the prickly hairs that are also well due past a shave. He wonders if this is what it’s like to just not care anymore.

He leaves the bathroom, sliding his dirty shirt over his head and tossing it into the dirty laundry pile; a mix of clothing covered in blood and sweat. He grabs a clean shirt from his dresser, pulling the grey Henly over his head and rolling up the sleeves. He catches Cas sitting on the bed, watching him with a questioning look.

‘Something wrong, Cas?” he asks with exasperation.

“Have you ever partaken in a three-some, Dean?” Cas asks innocently.

Dean rubs his hands through his hair, because holy hell what is this new shit. He’s not sure how much more weirdness he can even put up with, between the painkillers, pot smoking, and absinthe. Not that in _any_ other life time he would have ever turned down the idea of a threesome but it rubs him wrong now; or at least the idea of Cas in one.

He turns around digging through his drawer as an excuse to not look at Cas. “No, I haven’t Cas,” he says, a small lie. “Can I ask why you’re asking though?”

Castiel sighs behind him and Dean turns around. “What?” Dean says.

“It’s a part of human experience. I thought it might be…interesting,” Cas says with a small voice, his eyes glazed over slightly.

“So, you’re asking me if I want to be in a threesome?”

“Well, I’m asking if you’d mind if I was in one. You’d be welcome to join of course, Dean. I always enjoy our time together,” Cas says with the same stupid smile he wears whenever he’s on a combination of drugs, and Dean has to clench his fists to keep from punching Cas square in the jaw.

Dean squints his eyes as the Cas’ words sink in, pulling slightly at his heart. “Are you asking me if we’re _exclusive_?”

“I would suppose so?” Cas replies, his voice even and devoid of emotion.

“Man something is broken in you, Cas.” Dean replies bitterly. “No, I guess we’re not. I don’t care what you’re up to when you’re high.”

“I’m tired of apologizing, Dean.”

“I don’t get you, Cas. So you want to sleep with what, other guys? Girls?” Dean says, ignoring the blatant double standard as he has slept with both men and women in his life.

“Are labels so important? I keep telling you to not label me.”

“Do what you want Cas, you don’t need my permission.”

“I wasn’t asking your permission, Dean. I was telling you; I was talking to you,” Cas says quietly, “I don’t want to hurt you”.

Dean laughs bitterly and throws his coat on quickly. “Too late, man,” he says before striding out of the cabin.

*********

“Thanks for letting me stay here, Risa,” Dean says as he sits on the cot set up in the corner of her cabin.

“No problem, we all need a get-away sometimes,” she says as she brings a bottle of whiskey to her lips and tilts her head back, taking a large drink. She hands it to Dean next who gratefully accepts.

“Cas should be all healed up and off those crutches soon, right?” she says, approaching the subject carefully.

“Yeah, I think he should be good in another week. Hard to tell with no real medical staff here so we’re just being safe and keeping him off of his foot for a little longer.”

Risa nods and takes another drink, settling back onto her bed. “Its fall again, you know. We’ve been here a year”.

“Don’t remind me,” Dean says, sitting back.

He closes his eyes, the faces flashing before him of people who they’ve lost. His hand idly rubs at the map tucked into his coat pocket. He pulls it out, pores over it as he has been. His obsession shows in the creases and torn edges. His fingers flit over the locations with large X’s over them; places they’d searched. The routine is the same-look for the Colt. If possible, capture some demons along the way and get them to talk. Sure enough, a trail appears, a trail of demon hide-outs and whispers about the Colt being moved between them.

“We’re close,” Risa says, her hands over her eyes on the bed. “I know you’re looking at that map like you always are.”

Dean laughs and folds it up, stuffing it in his pocket again as he remove his jacket and places it safely beneath his cot. “I goddamn hope so. I’m sick of the freak show.”

“Who are you talking about?” she asks.

“I’m not sure to be honest, I’m really not.” He replies, images in his mind of Cas with his hazy stares and broken smiles.


	8. Where is My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "With your feet on the air and your head on the ground  
> Try this trick and spin it, yeah  
> Your head will collapse  
> If there's nothing in it  
> And you'll ask yourself  
> Where is my mind?"

March 2014

**Chapter 8: Where Is My Mind**

Dean’s eyes narrow as he watches Cas’ hands trace up the body of the naked woman in his lap, and Dean slides his eyes back groggily towards the woman in his own lap. Their cabin is its own den of inequity, and Dean’s not quite sure if this isn’t his own version of hell; a perverse reminder of his own false needs and wants he’d postulated for so much of his adult life. Two pairs of couples fucking mere inches from one another on the floor of his bedroom; what he would have given for this ten years ago, but it feels wrong now.

The air is thick with smoke and the smell of pot and sex. Dean diverts his attention from his annoyance at the situation, attempting not to watch as Cas wraps his lips around the bottle of absinthe and drinks from it, allowing small drops to run down his chin. As the girl on his own lap kisses his neck, (Dean thinks her name is Tina or maybe it’s Tarra) he runs his hands through her long blonde hair. She’s a little too blonde for his taste, and maybe a little younger than he’s used to but she’s clearly having fun despite his lack of effort.

He runs his fingers down her spine, causing her to giggle as she thrusts gently on top of his dick. He laughs at the irony of it, that he’s barely hard because there’s some chick riding him but he is too busy being jealous of the girl who has Cas’ dick inside of her right now. Dean sits up quickly, changing positions, and pins the girl to the old rug strewn across the cabin’s wood floors. He grasps her wrists and closes his eyes, imaging a different pair of blue eyes looking up at him instead.

“Hey, not so rough,” she whispers, one hand pushing gently against Dean’s chest.

His eyes fly open, “Oh shit, I’m sorry,” he says as he sits back. It’s been ages since he’s been with a woman; someone half his size.

“Fuck,” he repeats out loud.

It must catch Cas’ attention and Dean’s cock twitches a little in anticipation as Cas narrows his eyes at him. He wonders for a moment if Cas is pissed, but instead Cas grins lasciviously as he nods at the girl in his lap. She scoots closer to Dean and pulls him to her, putting his hand on her breast. Before Dean has a chance to wonder why he didn’t start with her; jet black straight hair and the innocent looks of a Japanese schoolgirl, Cas pulls Dean to him in a long kiss.

Dean’s a little stoned, and he can’t help but chuckle at some of the absurdity. Even with his hands fondling the boobs of a girl who looks like she walked out of every one of his teenage wet dreams, he’s fixated on the bare chest of the man in front of him. Cas grabs the bottle of absinthe again and chugs it sloppily, his lips wrapped lazily around the wide tip.

It doesn’t take much to elicit a long moan from Dean, and he pulls Cas closer to him, one hand around his neck. His tongue runs up Castiel’s chest, licking up the spilt alcohol. He takes his time, slowly finding Cas’ mouth and kissing him hard, tasting every bit of the sensuous sin that Cas chooses to partake in daily.

“Fuck, Cas,” is all he can mumble.

His hands reach towards Castiel’s dick but are pushed away as Cas pulls the blonde girl towards himself, the one who has been enthusiastically stroking Dean’s cock during his tunnel vision for Cas. Dean allows the other girl to crawl into his lap, trying to block out the image of Cas fucking the blonde girl now. It’s nearly impossible with the sounds they are making.

He slides his eyes over towards Cas, his body within reach but somehow still so far away. He’s not sure if he’s jealous or just upset because this isn’t Cas. This strung out junkie fucking a random girl. His chest feels tight and for a moment he wonders if he’s having a heart-attack; payback for all those greasy burgers he ate in his youth. He weakly attempts to kiss the girl on top of him, reminding himself that he can do this; that he should _want_ this.

He tries to do it, running his hand along her soft waist and thrusting her harder on him, but it feels empty. Almost worse than the emptiness from the sexual act alone is the jealousy stirring every time he hears Cas next to him, moaning due to another lover. Dean pushes the girl off of his own lap and quickly grabs his pants and a shirt, throwing them on while Cas and his blonde partner remain encompassed in their own activity.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbles towards his own partner but as he turns around, he finds her joining in with Cas, who catches Dean’s eye.

There’s coldness in his gaze, a deadness that cuts Dean to his core, but it’s gone the next moment as Cas grabs a nearby joint and takes a long drag, allowing the smoke to pour out slowly from between his lips.

It’s enough to make Dean feel sick, and he stumbles out of the cabin, choking on the suffocation of his own life. He sits down on the steps leading to his cabin, running his hands over his face. He pulls at his own hair frustration.

“Fuck,” he yells, his voice muffled by the hands covering his face. He smells like betrayal and insult.

“Gayer than you thought you were?” a voice asks, sitting down on the creaking steps.

He looks up, his eyes meeting Risa’s.

“Fuck you.”

She shrugs, pulling a cigarette out from her pocket. “It wasn’t an insult”. She offers him a cigarette but he shakes his head.

“Enough of that inside,” he says, motioning towards his front door.

“Trust me, I’m aware. Cas and his hippie followers too much for you?” Risa comments, her fingers curled around her cigarette.

“He’s all Magical Mystery Tour,” Dean remarks with a slight snarl.

“And what, you’re Eleanor Rigby?”

Dean laughs and shakes his head, although the insinuation is not incorrect. He’s lonely, he’s pissed, he’s sick of everything and everyone. He stands and wills his limbs to move, feeling the effects of the pot in his system.

“You look stoned as shit,” Risa says as she blows some smoke to the side.

“I am.”

“It still didn’t mellow you out? You’re wound as tight as ever,” she says as she stands. “This is just how he copes, Dean. It’s been going on for months. Either accept it or get off the ride.”

He wants to tell her that he’s tried, that the emergency exits don’t exist, but it sounds so emo and he’s not sure he’s ready to sound _that_ gay, no matter how much cock he’s sucked. He shrugs in response and stands up, shooting a worrisome look towards the door to his cabin. _Their_ cabin.

“Getting back on the yellow brick road, Dorothy?”

“Is that another gay joke?” Dean says through gritted teeth.

Risa laughs and shrugs, “Take it how you want. Good luck though”.

Dean watches as she walks away, her long dark hair tied into a messy braid. He’s again reminded of Lisa and a life where he everything was so much simpler. He takes a deep breath, allowing the gentle wind of winter’s remnants to calm him before he heads back inside the cabin.

*********

Castiel wakes up, the faint moonlight illuminating the empty spot in the bed next to him. The room still smells of pot, and Cas isn’t sure if the pain in his back is normal after some of the more rigorous sexual activities of the day. He runs his hand over Dean’s spot, rolling over and feeling the faint remnants of his warmth. The pillow still smells like him, leather and gunpowder mixed with a tinge of alcohol. Cas’ heart tightens a little and squeezes the edges of Dean’s pillow, clutching it tightly, riding out the wave of guilt and pain.

He stands, throwing on a loose cotton shirt and zipping up his jeans. He runs his hands across the rough stubble on his chin and attempts to pat his hair down; a futile attempt. Stumbling over the various clothing and bottles of alcohol on the floor, he finally finds his boots and slips into them as he heads outside. The sound of the cabin door closing is loud in the deafening silence of night. Cas can hear some whispers of conversation at the front of the camp; the night-watch.

Striding over to the cheaply erected fence on the edges of the patrol perimeter, he hops the fence efficiently and without sound. He knows where Dean is.

It doesn’t take long to get there, Cas knows the route well and the markers. The forest isn’t quite a forest so much as a sprinkling of trees that somehow grew together. The worry in his chest dissipates as he sees him, sprawled on his back on the front of the hood of the impala. Cas quietly takes his place beside Dean. He wraps his fingers through Dean’s and squeezes tightly as he gazes upwards towards the sky where the stars shine down as if nothing’s changed.

Dean reaches one finger towards the sky and scoots closer to Cas. “That’s the big dipper. I mean, I think it is.”

“I’m aware of the constellations, Dean.”

“Shit, Cas, give me an inch here?” Dean says softly, turning to look at Cas, their noses almost touching.

Cas smiles and squeezes Dean’s hand tighter, as he turns his gaze back to the sky.

“You were just being a little shit,” Dean says with a hint of amusement. He points out a few other constellations, or what he thinks they are. He’s wrong about a few of them, but he knows a surprisingly good amount for someone who never had a chance at a real childhood. Cas doesn’t bother correcting him. They lay in silence, adjusting themselves every so often as they slide on the hood of the broken down car.

“I know I’m difficult,” Cas finally says, having mulled it over in his mind. He says is slowly, the words carrying more weight and meaning than just four words should be allowed to. He knows “difficult” doesn’t even begin to describe it, but he’s just as much of a failure at talking about this as Dean is.

Dean exhales, the chill air visible in front of him for a moment as it’s swept away by a small gust of wind. “I am too, Cas.”

Castiel turns on his side, ignoring the loud sound of the plastic hood beneath them, pliable to their bodies. He runs a hand through Dean’s hair and down his face, tracing the lines. He leans in, placing a soft kiss on Dean’s mouth.

Dean grins slightly, an expression rarely seen, and Cas fights back the near instant sting of tears. He can’t help but blame himself for not being there for Dean, not saving him.

“I’m so selfish, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Dean is quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed, as he rubs his thumb gently across Castiel’s jaw. “You’re like Baby here,” he says, patting the hood of the car beneath them. “She needs some fixin’ up; a new coat of paint, and some oil. She’s a little broken; bent out of shape-but she’s not past repair.”

*********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check part 3 for the conclusion of "Bent". Thank you for reading!


End file.
